


The Valkyrie Wreath

by RedBubbles



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Competition, Dog Racing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Husky Sled Racing, Hypothermia, M/M, huskies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:25:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBubbles/pseuds/RedBubbles
Summary: The limit of human endurance can be pushed to the extreme when backed into a corner.Lukas Bondevik; freshly bailed out of prison for a crime intended to rake in money to pay for his dying mother's surgery. His chances of providing for his family seem dashed until the glittering advertisement for the world's longest husky sled race catch his eye. A husky sled racer in his childhood, it's a sport he thought he'd left behind. But can he pull himself together to win the longest, hardest race in human history?Of course, he's not the only one going for the title. Competitors with decades of experience and the best dogs and sleds money can buy are also pitted against him, dead set on finishing first and collecting the glory that comes with winning. Among those competitors is Matthias Kohler. Lukas swears not to let anything turn his head, but a certain blonde Dane might just be enough to make him glance...





	1. Chapter 1

“This is the police, drop whatever you’re holding and turn to face us, hands in the air! We are armed, and ready to shoot! Do not try to evade arrest!”

Lukas’ head snaps up just in time to see his accomplice, the man who had arranged and fabricated this entire escapade, slipping up into the ceiling vents, out of sight. His eyes flicker to the door, shadowed by masked silhouettes, to the bag of money lying abandoned on the floor, to the gun lying a few feet away from him.

Slowly, he stands, he turns, and he drops his skeleton key. They clatter sounds loud in his ears, and the yells and panting of the police is oddly muffled. His heart thuds, and he shuts his eyes against the bright lights.

It’s a failure. This entire operation, a failure. He’ll never see his mother again, never get the money for her medical bills. He’ll never see Emil again, or lecture him after coming in late after a night with his boyfriend. 

He exhales slowly and faces the screaming sirens and advancing officers. 

************************

Emil rocks back on his heels, looking around the waiting room. The receptionist doesn’t pay him attention anymore, just leafs through thick wads of paper and occasionally types something into his computer. The man sitting across from Emil cracks his knuckles every so often, the sound grating on Emil’s nerves. He shifts uncomfortably, and his eyes flicker, once again, to the corridor, waiting for Lukas to emerge. Every set of footsteps makes his muscles tense up, so he’s about to stand up and grab the arm of whoever comes striding down the corridor.

But it’s never Lukas.

He sighs heavily after the 50th disappointed drop in his stomach finally fades, and the woman who had walked up the corridor passes him by. 

There were very few instances when he felt like the older brother. Most of the time, Lukas kept him firmly in his place. Sometimes he didn’t feel so much like the little brother as the _belittled_ brother.

He slides down in the chair, jogging his leg up and down.

More footsteps, and he sits up, head automatically turning to the corridor. A figure is walking up it, flanked by another taller, stockier figure, and as the light falls onto Lukas’ face, Emil lets loose a sigh of relief. He looks fine, a little tired, but more or less ok. 

Emil stands up and the officer claps a hand onto Lukas’ shoulder. Emil watches the flicker of disgust pass over Lukas’ face at the harsh touch.

“You’re the legal next-of-kin for this man?”  
“Ja,” Emil replies, “I’m his half-brother. His mother is sick in hospital,”  
“You over 18?”  
“No, but I have…” Emil digs his hand into his pockets for the release papers, signed by his mother, “I have papers from his mother,”

The officer takes them, running a skeptical eye over them. Lukas flashes Emil a grateful look, and Emil just looks away.

“Alright,” the officer says finally, in a gruff voice, as though reluctant to let Lukas go on such unsteady terms, “don’t go getting into any more trouble,” he says to Lukas, “kids like you shouldn’t be screwing their lives up this early,”

With that, he leaves, and Lukas’ eye twitches.

Emil shoves the papers back into his pocket and turns on his heel, for once, leaving Lukas to follow in his wake. A bittersweet thought crosses his mind, about how it would always be him, fuming and in trouble, following behind, while Lukas strode ahead, always the good, steady child. How the tables had turned.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” Lukas says, stepping forward so he can keep stride with Emil. Emil nods.  
“It’s no problem,” he says

The doors make a soft _swish_ sound as they open, and the cold air bites at Lukas’ face. He hurriedly pulls his hood up. A few solitary flakes of snow flutter to the ground, and he involuntarily begins to shiver.

“So what happened?” Emil asks.  
Lukas sighs, pinching the root of his nose.  
“I used my one phone call to call the guy and explain the situation. I guess he was feeling pretty bad about ditching me, because he came and told them that I was an unwilling accomplice and I had done nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time,”  
“So they gave you bail?”  
“Uh huh,”

“You missed a huge snowstorm,” Emil tells him as they cross the carpark. Lukas nods.  
“I heard one of the guards talking about it. Saying something about taking a half day so he could take his kids tobogganing,”

Emil makes a disapproving noise.  
“Lucky for some. I had to work the whole time, and take care of the huskies,”

Lukas’ heart lightens slightly. Before Emil’s father had died, he had been an avid husky sled racer. Emil had been raised around huskies, and Lukas had quickly been dragged into the world of breeding and racing too. He and Emil had participated in amateur races. All three sleds; the large, professional racing one their father had used, and the cheaper, smaller child sleds Emil and Lukas had owned, were now gathering dust in the shed. But their huskies remained sleek and muscular, and often sold for a decent amount of money.

But it wasn’t enough.

Emil pulls a set of car keys out of his pocket, swinging them around his finger. Lukas frowns at the slightly battered car as Emil walks round to unlock it. It’s different to the last car he had.  
“New car?” he asks, and Emil glances up at him.  
“Já. Problem?"  
Lukas shakes his head.  
“Another present from Leon?”

Emil stills slightly, and then ducks into the drivers seat. Lukas follows. The inside is clean and average looking. Not the kind of car Lukas would expect Emil’s incredibly rich boyfriend to be buying. Definitely not the kind of car that Emil deserved. 

“No,” Emil replies slightly coldly as the engine splutters to life, “bought it myself. Leon just helped me replace some parts,”

Lukas hums, leaning back against the seat. There’s a newspaper sitting on the dashboard and Lukas’ stomach drops slightly.  
“What did I miss while I was…I was in there?”

Emil shrugs as he manoeuvres the car out of the parking spot.  
“Some boyband is breaking up. Another celebrity has got another boob job. A philanthropist donated a massive sum of money to a charity. Just the usual stuff,”  
“Uh huh,”  
“Oh, actually something interesting,” Emil says, nodding towards the newspaper, “they’re bringing back this big husky sled race, The Valkyrie Wreath. I only read it because…y’know,”

“Why’re they doing that?”  
“Something about resurrecting a lost art of husky sled racing. It’s a really killer race, from some place in Finland all the way down to Trondheim,”  
“Rend mig…that’s a bit intense, isn’t it?”  
“There’s a huge price on it though. Almost 500,000Kr,”  
“Will it be televised?”  
“I imagine so. It’s happening in a few months, because there are so many qualifying and screening processes,”

Emil smiles, a little bitterly. He used to compete in amateur 50 mile races with his father.  
“I’d go in for it, if we had a decent sled and fit dogs,”  
Lukas looks at him sharply.  
“Tell me you’re joking,”

Emil waves his hand irritatedly, smile disappearing quickly.  
“Já, já, of course I am,”

Silence passes between them as Emil squints at the road through the drifting snow.

“How’s mama?”

Emil bristles slightly, and Lukas’ stomach drops.

“Emil?"  
Emil looks down, and then his eyes flicker back up to the road.

“She’s fine,” he says in a slightly strangled voice.

Emil and Lukas’ mother was in long term stay at a hospital, suffering from cancer. She hadn’t been home in almost 3 months, and she was desperately awaiting a kidney transplant; one she was eligible for, but one that wasn’t covered by their insurance. 

One that cost almost 400,000Kr.

“What’s going on?”  
Emil shakes his head.  
“It’s just…” he begins, and then sighs heavily, “the money, for the transplant,”  
“What about it? I thought the doctor said we could pay 175,000Kr now and pay the rest after the surgery,”

Emil’s grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. His teeth worry at his lip.  
“Well…we…well, I…I had to spend it on-“  
“You spent it?!” Lukas demands, a rare burst of anger flaring in his chest, “on what?!”

He immediately thinks of the car, and he growls under his breath, twisting in his seat to look at Emil, who glares back at him.  
“On your bail! If you hadn’t gone on that dumb heist or whatever it was, we’d still have it!”

Lukas’ heart goes cold.  
“No,”

Emil stares at him pointedly.  
“Your bail cost 150,000Kr,”

“B-but that’s almost all of it!” Lukas whispers, shocked, feeling as though all the air has been punched from his lungs.

Emil looks away, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Lukas stares out the window, choking on his own breath.

“Does she know?”

“No,” Emil answers quickly, “and I’m not going to tell her. We’ll get a loan,”

Lukas shakes his head, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“No loans, they’ll bleed us dry,”

Emil looks down.  
“I don’t know where the hell we’re supposed to get 450,000Kr from,” he says quietly, “I…I could ask Leon, but-“  
“No,” Lukas replies sharply, “it’s way too much,”

He pauses, thinking hard.

“We…we could always…”  
“We could always what?” Emil asks, swerving to avoid a pothole.  
Lukas sighs, already knowing the response to his suggestion.  
“We could always sell the huskies and the sleds,”

Emil’s grip on the wheel tightens, and he grits his teeth.  
“Oh, no fucking way,” he growls, “no way, no way, no _way_ ,”

Lukas presses his knuckles into his eyes.  
“Then what else are we supposed to do?”

He spots the newspaper, doing an almost comical double take. The corner flutters slightly in the hot breeze from the heaters.. There’s a huge picture on the front of a group of huskies pulling a laughing girl on a racing sled. He frowns slightly.

“How much did you say the pocket for that husky race was?”


	2. Chapter 2

“No,” Emil says for the 500th time, “and no, no, no, and no again,”

He paces up and down the living room floor, throwing his hands up, tipping his head back, raging and yelling and trying to convince Lukas that this is a _stupid_ idea, and how it will never work, begging Lukas to think about this logically.

Lukas, always the sensible brother, the level headed brother, the mediator, the placater, the one who always broke up fights, sits with his laptop in his lap, looking at the application process for the Valkyrie Wreath.

It’s a stupid idea. A dumb idea. One that could get him killed. Had Emil suggested he himself go in for it, Lukas knows that he would never allow it.

So why is he doing it?

“You could die,” Emil says, “for a start, and where would that leave us? Or you could just not win, and then we’ve got no money, no savings, and no kidney transplant for mama!”

“I won’t die,” Lukas says flatly, although his stomach twists at the thought of it, “I used to race, and win. I can do it again,”

“Yes, in small races, Lukas, not ones like this! You’ve done, what, 50 miles, at the most? This one is 1000! Over 1000! It crosses _three_ countries, in the worst months of the year!”

It’s odd to hear Emil so logical, so factual. His tone and anger is expected, as he had always been hotheaded and explosive, but the sensibility in his voice is new. He’s always been the reckless brother, the one who acts before he thinks.

How the tables have turned.

“Your pabbi would have wanted to go in for it,” Lukas says softly, “he would have encouraged us to do it, too,”

Emil’s head snaps up at the mention of his father.  
“My pabbi was sensible. He didn’t do things on a spur of the moment. He thought about things. He wouldn’t have thrown himself into this race just for the hell of it,” Emil slams his head into the wall, “this is serious shit, Lukas!”

Lukas ignores him, knowing he’s right.

The pocket for it…the prize money…he can almost feel the notes slipping through his fingers, right into the greedy hands of the doctors. 

He shakes his head.  
“What other choice do we have? It took us almost 2 years to save up less than half,”

“It’s a stupid idea!” Emil says, and Lukas can tell that he’s starting to get furious and desperate, letting his heart overtake his head, “you could seriously die! Travelling that distance, for that long, in those conditions, it’s madness!”

But what of Lukas’ head? He had always thought so clearly, using his brain and his mind, never letting his heart dictate what he did. But what was in control now? Was he thinking out of love, or out of logic?

He averts his eyes back to the screen.

The website is welcoming, with large banners and bright colours and pictures of huskies and sleds and famous husky dog sled racers who have already signed up.  
Not only that, but there’s a whole list of every competitor who’s signed up already.. There are at least 100, and Lukas bites his lip, hard. 

Out of habit, his hands go to the dog tags around his neck, and he begins to slide them up and down the chain as he scrolls. His thumb smoothes over the information printed on them. 

_Bondevik  
Magnus  
NA139875021  
A neg  
Christian_

Lukas has it memorised, but it’s a comfort to feel the words stamped onto the warm metal with his own fingertips. 

“It’s the only option we have left,” he says, clicking on a large button that says ‘apply now’. Emil shakes his head.   
“ _Brjálæði_ ,” he mutters, “ _heimskur hálfviti_ ,”  
“Whatever you’re saying to me is rude,” Lukas says, his eyes flickering over the steps of the application process. Emil pauses his pacing up and down to look at the screen.  
“You’re really, honestly doing this?”  
Lukas looks up at his brother, the boy he had always protected, sheltered, looked out for. His eyes shine with worry, and his face looks a lot older than it had recently. Why had he never taken the time to study Emil’s face properly? It looks as though he had the weight of the world drowning in his ice blue eyes.  
“Ja. What other choice do we have?”

“We could get a loan,” Emil suggests, although it sounds more like he’s pleading, “we can pay them off in the next 6 years,”  
Lukas shakes his head.  
“It’ll be too much. Even with low interest rates, we just won’t be able to make the money back. And mama will need ongoing healthcare. Did you even think about that?”

In a rare moment of tenderness, Emil sits down beside Lukas and rests his forehead against his shoulder.

“Why did you try and steal the money?” he asks in a quiet voice, and Lukas realises with a tug in his heart just how young his brother is. He hates himself for almost leaving him to fend for himself. The page automatically refreshes, reminding Lukas that he’s about to leave his brother again.

“Because I was desperate,” Lukas says, clicking on the directions to the offices of the organisers, “and people do stupid things when they’re desperate,"


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a very long time since Lukas had set foot in the husky sheds with the intention of taking them out to race. Of course, he had trained them, exercised them, but it was all on a smaller, lighter sled than his Emil’s father’s old racing one. 

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair as the door shuts behind him, and the soft snuffling and yips and rustling of the dogs settles on his ears. The ‘husky shed’, as they knew it, was a large, barn-like building with 10 sections portioned off, along with a slightly large area, the breeding pen, and a large, turf covered play and training ring.

In each portion there were 2 dogs housed, and there were two beds, two water bowls, two pairs of shining eyes gazing up at him as the dogs trot forward, vying for Lukas’ attention.

At the end of the shed, covered by a thick tarp, is Emil’s father’s sled. The dog tags around Lukas’ neck seem to burn like fire, digging into his chest as he walks over to it. He hates admitting it to himself, but sometimes he really did prefer Emil’s father. He had a reason for leaving. He had a reason why he was no longer around.

At least Emil had found closure with his father’s death, even if grief and pain had come with it. Lukas had nothing but the negative feelings, and even those were numbed by gross indifference. 

Lukas strokes the tarp gently, feeling it crinkle under his fingertips. His hand comes away dusty. They haven’t used it in years. It was a proper racing sled, made for endurance races and being out for long periods of time, not sprint runs up and down the hills

He seizes the corner and pulls it off, coughing as the dust billows off it into the air.

The sled is made of warm, sturdy wood, painted a sleek red. It’s elegant and beautiful, and Lukas takes his time as he checks it over, pressing down on the bed, pulling the brackets, tying and re-tying the lashing. There are a few chips on the brush bow, but other than that it seems stable enough. The handle isn’t at all loose, and the stations are all holding strong. There’s a bolt or two missing on the runner, but that’s all easily fixable. Lukas lets out a sigh of relief that the sled is still in good condition.

He turns back to the dogs. They could be a very different story. There were 17 in total, but 2 were still too young, and 1 was retired. That left 14. The race called for a team of 8 dogs. 

He walks up and down the walkway, looking left and right at the dogs. They pace up and down at the doors, vying for his attention, yipping and whining and barking. He pauses occasionally to rub them behind the ears, a soft expression touching his face. 

Asbjørn and Hook had definite places on the team, as the anchor dogs. Both tall, heavy and strong, they could haul the sled for long stretches at a time. Neither had amazing speed, but he had gauged Hook to be able to go at about 12 mph when steady, so that would have to be enough. 

A team was only as fast as their slowest dog, after all.

The two dogs, both dark grey in colour, the only difference between them being the patch of white on Hook’s belly, stand at the end of their pen near the gate. Asbjørn rests his front paws on the wall, yapping as Lukas walks closer. Beside them were Leia and Bellatrix. 

Lukas looks from Bellatrix to Leia. Leia erupts into a volley of happy barks as he comes closer. They’re both the same size and weight, and had similar steady paces, but Leia had higher stamina. He narrows his eyes, studying the two dogs. Leia tilts her head to the side and barks again, then whines, annoyed at the lack of attention she receives. Lukas scratches her ears, and then moves past them. That would be a difficult decision.

Titus and Shasta are in the next pen. Titus gnaws the mesh of the door, and Lukas flicks his pink nose away gently. A pure white dog with stamina and speed to boot, and strength in buckets, Lukas had been offered money for him time and time again, each time the price climbing. But he couldn’t bring himself to sell the dog, who was the last of the pups Emil’s father had bred. 

Shasta was definitely a lead dog, there was no doubt about it. He and Lukas had raced before, and he was one of Lukas’ most experienced and trusted dogs. He watches Lukas with his odd coloured eyes; one brown, one ice blue, blinking slowly. Lukas reaches out to pat his head and he accepts the affection, licking Lukas’ hand and nibbling his thumb.

He continues to pace up and down, running sceptical eyes over the dogs. He’s amazed at how many skills re-surface as easily as that, spotting weak tendons and sore paws and split nails as though he’d been doing it every day for the last 10 years, instead of barely even looking at the dogs save to check them over before selling them.

His mind wanders as he walks up and down. The dogs are fit, and the sled is stable, but what about _himself_? This is a big thing, and he hadn’t raced properly since…well, 11 years ago, when Emil’s father had died. 

He’s throwing himself into a death-defying, insane race, competing against the world’s best in sled-racing, after 10 years of no practice, and only a few 50 mile races before that? 

He stops and leans against one of the dividers. 1000 miles of snow, ice, rain and blizzards. He’d never dealt with much bad weather on his other races, as there had always been shacks and rest stops. In this race, he’d be doing around 90 miles a day alone, probably seeing no humans or civilisation in between.

He puts his head into his hands briefly, rubbing his temples and groaning. 

He’ll be damned if he doesn’t win this race. 

He shuts his eyes, inhales deeply, and hardens his resolve. 

_I guess I’d better start practicing_ he thinks to himself as he kicks the tarp away from the sled.


	4. Chapter 4

Lukas races past Emil for the 4th time that morning. His half brother looks exhausted and pissed off, and he clicks the stop watch, squinting at the numbers in the dark.

“46 minutes and 18 seconds,” he announces, but Lukas doesn’t hear him. Despite having run almost 25 miles today already, the dogs are bouncing and desperate to be off, and wrestling them to a halt is difficult. 

The track they had been practicing was one of the more difficult ones that looped through a lot of hills, rough ground and over an ice lake. It was the best they could do. At approximately 6 miles in length, Lukas lapped it 4 times to bring it up to an even 24. It should be taking him about half an hour to do it, if his calculations for their average speed was correct. Emil trudges through the snow towards Lukas as he pushes his goggles up off his eyes, and looks over at his brother.

“46 minutes,” Emil shouts as he walks, the snow crunching under his boots, “you’re still too slow,”

Lukas sighs and tugs at the sleeves of his coat. It was still early days, but he needed the dogs doing their fastest as soon as possible. Hopping from the sled, he walks over to them, and begins checking them over for signs of exhaustion and injuries.

At least they were all fine. Their un-dented energy levels were a relief too, because if they could run that, unfit and unpracticed, in under 50 minutes, then there was still hope.

Hope that would have to become a reality in the next 4 months. 

Lukas rubs the tired rings under his eyes and yawns. It’s about 6am, he guesses, unable to look at his watch where it sits under the thick layers of his coat, and the edge of the sky is beginning to glow as the sun rises. He’d been up at 4am, training all day, and sleeping at midnight, and it’s beginning to take its toll on him. Emil stares at him, teeth worrying at his lip.

“You need more sleep,”

Lukas yawns and arches his back, cracking the bones back into place.  
“I've got to go for a run,” he says, “then I’m gonna go into the sauna,”

Emil shakes his head.  
“No run, no sauna. If you run, you’ll fall asleep in the sauna, and you’ll burn yourself again. And if you don’t run, you’ll still fall asleep in the sauna, and burn yourself again,”

The shiny skin on Lukas’ calf muscle twinges slightly, as if reminding him of when he had slumped against the bench, fast asleep, pressing his calf against it for almost 15 minutes before he woke up to agonising pain, just 5 days prior. 

He shrugs and sighs. As much as his aching body _wants_ to listen to Emil, he just _can’t_. He’d tried running 5km the other day, and he’d barely even managed 3.5 before collapsing to the ground, panting and sweating, with his legs screaming for mercy. He’d had to call Emil, who found the whole thing hilarious, to come and pick him up. 

He rolls his neck, cracking it, and then stretches. The muscles in his shoulders and arms are tense and sore, and his legs tremble slightly as he works to push them through the snow.

“Maybe I can afford a day off…” he mutters, and Emil immediately brightens up, shoving the stopwatch into his pocket.  
“I’ll do anaerobic workouts with them,” he says, “if that’ll make you feel better,”

Lukas smiles weakly at his brother.  
“Thanks, little brother,”  
“Don’t call me that,” Emil snaps, his expression darkening as he turns away and begins to trudge back to the car, “you can walk home,”

Lukas shakes his head and sighs, licking his dry lips and then trudging back to the back of the sled.

“Are you coming in the car?” Emil calls, standing beside the open door. Lukas waves his hand dismissively, pushing the sled over and encouraging the dogs to move forward with a click of his tongue.

“Hold your horses,”

“Hold your huskies!” Emil yells back, an old childhood joke of theirs, as he stands by the car door, hopping from foot to foot.

Lukas shoves the sled through the snow, leading the huskies to the trailer. His legs are trembling with cold and exertion. Maybe that run was more needed than he’d previously anticipated...

He tenses and relaxes his muscles as he unclips the dogs and leads them onto the trailer. He trips on one of the ridges and stumbles, his legs barely able to support his weight. He groans. Every inch of him aches and shakes whenever he tries to put weight on it. He’d only been training for what, 3 weeks? Just a few hours every day, and he was already suffering. 

He hits the trailer door twice after he’s secured it, and hobbles to the car. It’s blissfully warm inside, and Emil taps his fingers on the wheel impatiently as Lukas strips off his various layers, right down to his skin tight thermal. He leans back against the chair and sighs.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee, do you?”  
“I do, and it’s mine,” Emil replies as the engine splutters to life, “you should sleep when you get home,”  
Lukas mutters something incoherent, resting his head against the headrest and closing his eyes.

Silence falls, and Emil leans forward, squinting through the snow as he drives.  
“Have you decided on the team yet?”  
“Not quite. I’ve decided on all but the lead dogs, and it’s a toss up between Titus and Laski, or Shasta and Link,”  
“Titus does that weird loping thing,” Lukas says, “who were you racing with just now?”  
“Shasta and Link,” Lukas says, “it’ll probably be them. They work together well. In an ideal world, I’d have Laski and Shasta, but they don’t get on at all. I wouldn’t trust leaving them in a tent together,”

Emil gnaws on his thumb as they turn onto a main road, and he picks the speed up a little.  
“I’m gonna drop by Leon’s tonight,” he says. He doesn’t have to ask for permission, as such, but it always felt that way.  
“Alright,”  
Emil says nothing for a few minutes.  
“I was thinking he could maybe lend you some of his mountaineering gear,”

There’s a second of silence, and then Lukas twists to glare at Emil (making his abs twinge in pain) and says, very firmly,  
“No.”

The corner of Emil’s mouth twitches in annoyance.  
“Oh, so you were just gonna race across the coldest region of the world with a pop-up tent and a winter coat? Come on, Lukas, you’ll die,”  
“I can get what I need,” Lukas snaps, “I’m not begging and borrowing from other people,”  
“Fine. Freeze to death,” Emil snaps, then after a moment’s pause, “leave me and mama,”

Lukas clenches his jaw.  
“I’m not accepting help,”

Emil narrow his eyes.  
“Fine. But I am,"


	5. Chapter 5

Emil comes home late that night. Lukas is standing slumped under the piping hot water in the shower when he hears the door slam shut. He groans softly and tries to move, all his muscles protesting. He feels as though he’s aged 70 years in just a day.

He glances at the clock as he dries his hair and his eyes widen. 

“Faen, it’s late,” he mutters, shaking the water from his hair and quickly tying the towel around his hips. He glances down at his stomach, expecting to see at least the faintest outlines of abs after the soul crushing exercise regime he’s tortured himself with. 

Nothing.

“Fine,” he growls, “abs are overrated,”

He stomps out of the bathroom and down the stairs, shivering. Emil must have turned the heating down again. 

Emil stands in the hallway, and Lukas stops in the middle of the stairs, arms folded, tapping his foot, looking much like a disapproving mother.

Emil looks up slowly, and glares up at him from the foot of the stairs.

“Where the hell have you been?” Lukas demands, “it’s almost midnight,”

Emil glares at him as he unwinds his scarf; a good sign, as it means he hasn’t sustained any hickeys. A mammoth rucksack sits next to him, one that’s over half the size of Lukas. It looks incredibly expensive.

“I have a life outside of you,” he replies, hanging his scarf and coat up. 

Lukas descends to the bottom of the stairs, and kicks the rucksack with his toe, so it falls to the side heavily.   
“Hey, watch that!” Emil yelps, shoving past Lukas and setting it upright again. Lukas folds his arms tighter.  
“Just what is _that_?”

Emil leans the bag against the wall, and inspects it carefully.  
“Survival equipment, from Leon. He’s lending it to me,”  
“What the hell do you need survival equipment for?!”   
“To lend to you, obviously!” Emil snaps, and then looks a little smug as he pats the bag, “I’ve got everything. Thermals, flasks, hand warmers, heat vests, coats, fleeces, tents, sleeping bags, carabiners, wind sheets, goggles, balaclavas, scarfs, gloves, lamps, torches-“

Lukas holds his hand up, breathing in and out slowly.  
“I told you,” he says in a slow, measured voice, “that I wasn’t accepting help from anyone,”  
“You’re not,” Emil replies, the smug look being replaced with an irritated one, “I’m forcing it on you. And if you refuse it, you’ll die. Plain and simple,”

Emil glares at Lukas, and Lukas glares off. It’s a standoff, and Lukas doesn’t intend to lose it. But then again, neither does Emil. 

Finally, without breaking eye contact, Emil leans towards Lukas.

“Take the fucking pack,”

Lukas leans in too.

“I don’t need help,”

Emil growls, and for a second, Lukas thinks he’s going to revert back to his 6 year old self, and start slapping him.  
“You’ll die,”

Lukas opens his mouth to retaliate, and then shuts his mouth, thinking. Emil smirks slightly.

He’s right. Lukas has the barest minimum for racing. He only has a sled, a shitty tent and a few ratty thermals. His winter coat is bulky and old, and he has no racing goggles that still fit him.

He relents, finally, and steps back, adjusting the towel.  
“Fine. _Fine_ ,” he mutters, “but I refuse to accept anything else,”  
Emil’s smirk widens, and he reaches into the bag slung across his shoulder.  
“That’s alright,” he tosses a small package to Lukas, “courtesy of Leon. He wanted you to have a good luck charm,”

Lukas just manages to catch it, and groans.  
“He didn’t buy me something, did he?

Emil shrugs nonchalantly, and pushes past Lukas on his way up the stairs.  
“Be grateful,"

Lukas tucks the package under his arm and starts toward the kitchen. However, no sooner has his heel hit the floor when he feels a light tug on his towel. It comes loose from around his waist, and as he turns around to yank it back, it’s wrenched off him completely. Emil is already sprinting up the stairs with it, sniggering gleefully, leaving Lukas standing in the hallway, naked as the day he was born.


	6. Chapter 6

Lukas stares at the screen blankly. He’s been browsing the Internet for so long, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore. No matter how many times he tries to distract himself with an inane game or dumb video, he’ll always click back to the Valkyrie Wreath page. He had yet to officially enter, but he had submitted an online form, so he had a place in the runnings, even if it wasn’t finalised yet.

It’s the same as the first time he had seen it, except the list of entrants has grown, and along the side where links to Wikipedia pages containing information about huskies, and sledding, and the needed equipment had been, there are videos of various famous entrants being interviewed.

His mouse hovers over one of the videos, three men, one holding a microphone, and it automatically starts playing.

“I am here with brothers Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams to talk about their thoughts and expectations for the upcoming race,” the interviewer announces, and then turns to the two men, “so, boys, first of all, are you excited?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” the shorter and stockier of the two says with a grin, “it’s gonna rock. Mattie and I haven’t done a proper race against each other in ages,”  
“You two are famous for tandem races. Any thoughts on what it’s going to be like going head to head not only against other experienced racers, but also each other?”

Alfred laughs and slaps Matthew on the back.  
“It’s gonna be awesome! The other fellas will be no problem, but Mattie here's real competitive-“  
“No I’m not...”  
“-so I’m gonna have to watch out for him!”

“And what about yourself?” the interviewer asks Alfred, “do you think you’re entering with a fighting chance?”  
Alfred points over his shoulder with his thumb.  
“Have you seen my dog team? We’re gonna crush it!”  
“Ah, yes! Dog teams. Do you think you could both tell me a little-“

Lukas moves his cursor off the video, already feeling bored. The video beneath it shows two different men. It plays automatically as Lukas hovers over it.

“So, Mr Braginsky-“  
“Please, call me Ivan,”  
The interviewer looks a little pale.  
“Yes, uh, Ivan. How are you feeling about the upcoming race? I can’t imagine you’re very nervous, what with your recent victories across in the Russian Tug and the European Open,”  
Ivan smiles demurely.  
“The competition was nothing in those races, but this race, this one should be interesting,” he says, and he glances to his left, “my fellow competitors look interesting. I am looking forward to racing against some of them,”  
“Of course, of course, and speaking of fellow competitors, rumour has it that your sister is going to be entering alongside you! Any comments on that?”

The expression on Ivan’s face changes, and he looks as though a cloud has suddenly appeared above him.  
“She is…a good racer. She would always chase me, when we…” he pauses, “when we were children, and she is very fast. She will do well in the race,”

The man seems slightly stumped, as it clearly wasn’t the response he was hoping for. Lukas moves off the video, and yawns. There are only two more below it. He glances at the time at the top of his screen. Almost 3am. He has to be up in 2 hours to take the dogs out, and then begin training again. 

At least training had become easier. It was barely 2 months until the start of the race, and the vigorous training he had put both himself and the huskies through was starting to pay off. He’d be starting the day tomorrow with a 10k run. Even if it was easy(ish) for him, he still wasn’t looking forward to it. 

He jumps from his thoughts as one of the videos starts playing unexpectedly, his cursor having slipped over it by mistake. The interviewer, a woman this time, gazes at the man beside her, looking smitten.

“I’m here with Mr Matthias Kohler, on his husky ranch in Denmark,”

The man on screen beams at the camera. Lukas groans and slams his face into his pillow. He didn’t need reminding that not only did talented people exist, but those talented people could also be rich, famous, _and_ gorgeous.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here!”

Lukas looks up just in time to see the woman bite her lip.  
“The pleasure is all ours, I assure you,” she says. Lukas mimes gagging at her breathy, flirtatious tone.

“So what originally prompted you to sign up for this race, Mr Kohler?” she asks. Lukas makes loud, childish gagging noises to himself as she bats her eyelids at Matthias

Matthias grins before replying and waves his hand dismissively.  
“Please, call me Matthias. I have a great team of dogs, and they love racing as much as I do. I haven’t done a proper, big race like this one in years. My pa’s too old and too busy so enter, and I told him I’d enter, in his honour,”

The woman practically melts.  
“That’s so sweet! Aren’t you at all worried about what such an undertaking much involve? This race isn’t your average 2 dog 50 miler,”  
“You’re right, but even the most basic of races has it’s dangerous. This one just-"

Lukas skips forward, and when the video resumes, they’re both laughing. The woman puts her hand on Matthias’ arm as she giggles.  
“Oh, you’re too much!” she says, and Matthias shrugs, still chuckling.  
“It’s all in the trust. Trust your dogs, and they’ll trust you back. They’re smart ani-“

Lukas clicks off the video, and slams his laptop shut, rolling onto his back. He inhales and exhales deeply, and then slaps his cheeks, groaning. 

“I have to sign up soon,” he mutters. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’s been putting it off. Hoping that maybe some glowing saviour might come around the corner with all the money they need. It’s not that he isn’t excited about the race, it’s just that that excitement is completely dwarfed by the very real fear that he could actually die in this race. 

The grinning, bright, happy faces of the famous competitors don’t help. They have nothing to lose by doing the race, just a few weeks of their life and maybe a few bets.

Lukas has everything to lose.


	7. Chapter 7

Emil is in the kitchen surprisingly early when Lukas walks in at 9am. He sits on the kitchen table, sipping a mug of coffee, swinging his legs leisurely.

Lukas walks into the kitchen, stretching his arms out and trying to get his breathing back under control.

“Tables are for glasses, not asses,” Lukas says, and Emil sticks his tongue out and he wiggles his hips. Lukas grimaces.  
“I’m eating dinner on the sofa from now on,”

“Suit yourself,” Emil replies, sipping his coffee loudly, “I bought you a Danish pastry for breakfast,”

Lukas looks longingly at the paper bag on the countertop, already stained with grease and icing.  
“I wish I could. It’s just pure sugar,”  
Emil sips his coffee again.  
“You’ve just run a bloody marathon, treat yourself,”

“And undo months of training?” he tears his eyes from the Danish reluctantly. Emil shrugs and sips his coffee.

“Where did you run?”  
“Just up to the village, across the field, up the hill and back down along the main road,”  
“That’s only what, 6 kilometres?”  
Lukas huffs and wipes his hand across his brow again.  
“7, actually. I stopped at the playground at the top of the hill for about 20 minutes anyway,”

Emil sniggers, struggling not to spit his coffee out as he chortles.  
“What did you do there? Go down the slide? Play on the swings?”  
Lukas gives him a scathing look.  
“They have exercise equipment there,”

Emil nods slowly, still smirking slightly.  
“Of course,”

Lukas rolls his eyes and huffs.  
“Very mature. I’m gonna go do some exercises with the huskies,”

“Enjoy,” Emil calls, “oh, by the way, you have entered, haven’t you?”

Lukas freezes in the doorway, and turns around slowly.  
“Uh…why?”  
Emil shrugs and swills the dregs around in the bottom of the mug.  
“Just wondering, because the closing date is tomorrow,”

Lukas’ heart jack hammers into his throat, and he gulps.  
“Oh,” he squeaks, voice cracking slightly. Emil raises his eyebrows, looking at Lukas sceptically.  
“You haven’t entered, have you?”

Lukas leans against the counter top.  
“Not…not officially…"

Emil looks suddenly alarmed.  
“You haven’t even entered?! What are you waiting for, an invitation?”  
Lukas looks down, ashamed to have to admit why.  
“I…I was just hoping that maybe something would come along. Maybe a relative would die, or one of us would get a job,” he throws his hands up, “hell, maybe even the lottery!”

Emil looks aghast.  
“You need to enter! Now, today!"

Lukas can’t argue. He just looks down, feeling very much like a child caught doing something naughty.

Emil doesn’t wait for a response, just gets up, slamming his coffee down, slopping over the rim.  
“Go get dressed, and get a decent pair of shoes-“ he pauses as he passed Lukas and wrinkles his nose, “maybe take a shower too. I’ll look up what time entry closes,”

“It’s tomorrow,” Lukas calls after him, shrugging off his coat and rolling his shoulders. He sniffs himself, and makes a face. He really does need that shower.

As he walks out into the hall, Emil wanders out of the study, his laptop balanced on his arm.  
“Says here entry deadline is midnight tomorrow,” he gives Lukas a glare, “you’re damn lucky you didn’t miss it,”

There’s an odd twist in Lukas’ stomach, and it takes him a moment to understand just what he’s feeling. He looks at his brother with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and mild awe.

“Since when did you become so grown up?”

Emil’s face changes from furious, to dazed, to confused, and then to surly, all in a few seconds.  
“Since when did you start seeing me as grown up?” he growls, hunching his shoulders and skulking back into the study. 

Lukas sighs heavily and trudges up the stairs. Being the parent-sibling was never fun, especially not when it came to watching the brother he’d protected for so long begin to mature and make his own way into the world. 

He had expected Emil to feel the same way he did. What with their mother being in hospital, he felt that they needed to stick together. 2 was a dangerous number, and Lukas needed Emil as much as Emil needed him.

Or at least, as much as he thought Emil needed him. Maybe his baby brother really was starting to grow up.

Lukas shakes his head, as though trying to shake off the encroaching thoughts threatening to darken his mind. He strips off his sweat soaked work-out clothes and climbs into the shower, refusing to think about it anymore.


End file.
